Deliquency
by abi.squid
Summary: Mello returns to the SPK to get revenge on Near with a surprising twist... No actual love is involved. Short one-shot.


I ran down the empty corridors, breathing controlled, footsteps muffled. In my mind I was travelling the same route I had gone before; twisting down writing pathways. In my mind, the labyrinth was clear. That's what being a genius is for.  
When I reached the door, I retrieved the gun from my pocket. No doubt I would be met by a greater force on the other side but I had the element of surprise. I burst through the door, gun ready, to be met with-  
Nothing. No startled cries, no panicked gunshots. Just a hunched figure on the cold floor.  
"Nine minutes, forty-three seconds. You're slacking, Mello."  
Near. He was facing away from me, however I could still hear the smile in his voice. He looked so angelic, so clean and pure and white. His soul was hollow and cold, though. He sat hunched on the floor behind a huge tower of stacked Jenga blocks. Many of them were missing and the tower seemed to be impossibly balanced. The boy used his swift fingers to extract one of the blocks, the tower not swaying in the slightest.  
"Join me, Mello. You remember this game, we played it often at Wammy's House," he recalled, no hint of fondness in his voice. I did remember. I had often got irritated and jogged the tower, sending the bricks crashing to the ground.  
"How did you know I was coming?" I demanded.  
"You disabled my security system rather well. But I am increasingly paranoid, so I always have a back up, just in case."  
"I didn't disable the security system. It was...a friend," I hesitated, unsure of what to think of him as.  
"A friend? I'm intrigued. Is he a well-known hacker? Someone I might have heard of?"  
"Well...do you remember Matt? From Wammy's?" I asked, though of course, Near forgets very little.  
"Matt? Oh I see..." he mused, clearly waiting for a response. Not given one, he carried on. "So you are using his unrequited feelings for you to manipulate him into helping you?"  
"What? No!" I protested, my cheeks warming.  
"O come on, Mello, you really aren't that interesting really. Just the standard, predictable sociopath with and inferiority complex and an obsession with chocolate. Matt is a relatively intelligent person. He will realise your feelings aren't genuine soon enough. If he hasn't worked it out already." He deftly removed two of the blocks at once, both slipping out with ease.  
In frustration, I pointed my gun at him.  
"One more move and I shoot," I warned.  
He sighed. "I don't think you should do that. If I die, you will get caught and die and Kira will never be captured. Do you want that? Good, because I've got a job for you..."  
"Stay where you are! I might not kill you, but I can hurt you!" I commanded, panicked. I knew his team were away, but if they wanted to it wouldn't take them long to track me down.  
"There's nothing you could do that could hurt me without causing death. Unless you carried me to a hospital yourself. Otherwise, a few bruises won't be that bad."  
He smiled. That was enough.  
I went into a blind rage, kicking him in the back with the sole of my boot. He lurched forward with the impact, his tower disintegrating with the movement. Small wooden blocks spread across the floor. Instead of crying out in pain, Near began rebuilding his tower, still smiling slightly.  
I kicked again, this time at his head. His head smashed to the ground with a sickening thump. His face went blank, but no tears welled in his eyes, not sound from his throat. However before he tried to get back up, I kicked him down again, and again in the face. This time, as he scrambled into a sitting position, a trickle of blood oozed from his lips. He wiped his face with his shirt, the white fabric coming away crimson. He stared at me with cool contempt.  
I crouched down beside him, elbows resting on my knees. I was still slightly higher than him. To me, that made all the difference.  
I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to scream and quiver beneath me. I wanted to win. But he was immune to teasing, insults and verbal abuse. And hurting him just made him seem more contempt. I could...I could...  
He had shuddered at my closeness when I crouched down beside him. Perhaps that was the key.  
Cautiously, I lent forward. Breathing in, I brushed my lips against the icy smoothness of his cheek. He grimaced and flinched, drawing away. This was it! I had won!  
Before he had time to draw away I leant in again this time aiming for his lips. He tried the twist away so I grabbed his head, holding it still. The blood on his lips was sticky and metallic. It tasted like fear. I traced his lips with my tongue, eager for more fear. Near flinched again, his eyes screwing up in desperation. His let out a small squeak. That opening was all I needed to prize his mouth open with mine now interlocked. He tried to squirm away but I held him tight, forcing him into a standing position. I drew back slightly, pushing him against a wall so that his movements were limited. A hand clamped on his throat, I began to kiss his neck.  
I don't think it was the pleasure. No, it definitely wasn't. It was the feeling of knowing that every move I made caused him to squeal and moan in frustration. It was knowing that my every move was deepening his humiliation and furthering his pain. That is what drove me on.  
I began to kiss his neck, sucking and biting at the soft flesh. I had spent years staring at him from a distance, wondering if that icy flesh was as cold and hard as it looked. Many a time I had imagined putting a knife to his throat but never my lips. Drips of blood from his mouth were now joined with ones from his neck, staining the soft fabric of his collar which was already torn in the struggle.  
"Mello..stop..." Near whimpered, body quaking under my hands. I paused for a moment, leaning back slightly, still holding him firm against the wall.  
"No," I said bluntly, licking my bloodied lips with a predatory grin. "I will have victory. I will humiliate you. I will dominate you. And you..." I leant forward so my face was close to his. In his eyes were tears of despair, all defiance gone. "...will submit," I hissed. I stared into his eyes as I ran my bloodstained tongue up his cheek. He squinted and grimaced but remained silent.  
Smiling to myself, I ran my feverish hands over his body, nails scrabbling to draw more blood. Near didn't react. He stood, stony expressioned, tears hazing his storm coloured eyes which were writhing with dismay. I began to kiss him again and this time he didn't fight back. I bit at his lips as I kissed him, inwardly grinning at his hopeless expression. Pausing for breath, I drew back.  
He bolted the second I released pressure. It was clear he had some sort of direction, heading towards the mass of computers clustered in one corner. I planned to grab him before he reached them but I didn't have to. As he ran in a panic, his foot caught on a displaced Jenga brick, sending him tumbling to the ground. He let a small cry as he fell, the last of his calm coolness evaporating. Seizing the opportunity ran and dropped, pinning him to the ground. His squealed in panic. I was kneeling on his back and crushing it to the floor. I bent so my face was next to his, which was straining upwards. I twisted and bit down on his neck. It was like I had tranquillised him, panicked shrieks fading to whimpers of defeat. He was shuddering and trembling beneath me. Victory was mine.  
But it wasn't enough. My hands scrambled at his flesh as I bit again, blood welling into my mouth. Deftly, I tore his blood soaked shirt from his back, it was an inconvenience. Besides, it was already torn, I was just finishing the job. I licked the smooth skin of his back, kissing and biting at I pleased. Near was barely reacting now, occasionally squeaking or moaning for me to stop. I denied him. I ran my mouth down his arms, feeling him quake beneath my lips.  
Suddenly I was wrenched off him with an explosive force. My arms were forced behind my back as I hissed and struggled. I felt something cold against my temple. A gun. Damn, his team must have returned.  
After a little struggling, Near returned to a crouching position on the floor. The panic that had filled his eyes a moment before had gone, the tears however remained. His chest was bare and exposed, his pale flesh striped with drips of blood, rivulets of red crossing his body. His arms, back and neck were rings with teeth marks. His mouth had swollen on one side from where I had hit him, making him look slightly lopsided. His normally pure white hair had been dyed red at the roots, spreading like a flower down each follicle of hair. He stared me straight in the eyes.  
"Yes Mello," he hissed, voice barely more than a whisper, "thank you for offering your help with this case."  
I was going to reply when I remembered the gun pointing at my head. He had outmanoeuvred me again! I had got far too carried away, I should be gone by now.  
"Next time, Near, I will destroy you."  
"There will be no next time."


End file.
